Attention
by ButtercupHarmony
Summary: 9 year old Don plays baseball.


_He was three when he multiplied four-digit numbers in his head. By the age of four, he needed special teachers, special classes. My wife - I mean, his mother and I, we put a lot of time into his education. It was Don who was the one who had to get used to taking care of himself._

_Alan Eppes, Uncertainty Principle_

They had promised to come. Don sat on the bench on the side of the baseball diamond, legs bouncing up and down as he scanned the bleachers for his parents, but he couldn't find their faces in the crowd.

"Okay Don, you're up." The nine-year-old jumped up and grabbed a bat before taking his position at home plate. Two strikes later, he hit the ball, and ran to first base. The next kid stepped up to the plate, and Don snuck another look at the bleachers, hoping they had just gone to the bathroom. The kid hit the ball and began running to first, so Don tore his eyes from the bleachers and began running as well, making it to third before he had to stop.

They ended up winning the game. Again, he scanned the crowd for his parents. Even if they missed the game (which they had promised they wouldn't do), they would need to pick him up. The crowd began to thin as parents brought their children home, and a panic began to blossom in Don's stomach. What if they didn't come? How would he get home?

"Don, are your parents here?" Don looked up to look at the coach's face, and forced himself to look calm.

"I'm sure they're only running late." Don said calmly. He knew the coach didn't buy it, and looked steadily into the disbelieving look on the coach's face.

"C'mon, I'll give you a ride home." The coach said, his voice leaving no room for argument. Don obeyed, and followed the coach and his son, Don's teammate to the car. The two boys climbed into the backseat, and the drive to Don's house was filled with laughter and a joyous recap of the game, and the win that had secured their place in the Little League championships.

When the car pulled in front of Don's house, Don noticed that both cars were in the driveway. "Thank you for the ride." Don said politely, reaching for the door handle.

"You're welcome Don." The coach returned, looking at the house wearily. "Good job today." Don smiled.

"Thank you." He said, and climbed out of the car. He walked slowly into the house, and wasn't all that surprised when his mother seemingly came out of nowhere.

"Where have you been?" His mother shrieked in the way only mothers could manage. "Why didn't you come home after school? You know how worried I was? You know you're supposed to come straight home unless you tell me where you're going. Where were you?"

"The baseball game." Don said quietly. "We won." He quietly climbed the stairs, intent on going into his room, but his brother had other ideas.

"Don!" The four year old shrieked, flying out of the solarium. "You want to see-" Don's door closed in his face, surprising the small child. "Don? Do-on, open the door! I want to show you something!"

Don sighed as he sat at his desk and pulled out his spelling book, while Charlie continued banging on his door. It was only a few months ago that his parents had sat him down and told him that Charlie was special. A genius, they said. He hadn't understood what they meant at the time. But then the tutors had started coming, and he began feeling as if he was watching everything from the outside. He sometimes overheard his parents' hushed whisperings, always containing Charlie's name. Never his.

"Don?" He looked up as his mother slipped into his room. Charlie didn't follow her, she had probably convinced him to go back to the solarium. "I'm sorry we missed the game." She said softly. He diverted his eyes.

"It's okay Mom." He said softly. "I understand."

"No, it's not okay." She insisted. "I promised you I'd be there and-"

"Mom, I said it was okay." He repeated. She smiled sadly, and seemed to give in.

"Come on, dinner's almost ready." She said, standing up and leaning over to place a kiss on the top of his head. "You can tell me all about the game." Don felt his heart rise, and he followed his mother downstairs, already giving his mother the highlights of the game, not noticing the blank expression on her face. He could hear his Charlie babbling on about something mathematical, already beyond the scope of his third-grade understanding. He picked up his pace. He knew his brother would steal the spotlight at dinner. He just wanted his share too.


End file.
